


Hurricane

by hotaryu



Category: Heneral Luna (2015), Heneral Luna | General Luna (2015) RPF
Genre: F/M, Gen, ang cute nina beata at pingkian huhu, cutie pie si vicente, everyone loves anacleto, landi ni adela e di waw, loser si adela, magsama ang mga loser e di waw, si gagorio napakaloser
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotaryu/pseuds/hotaryu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a storm brewing in Bulacan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Place

**1896**

You’re hypnotic, handsome as a god. That’s the first thing I notice about you, when you find me under the trees, in San Jose, where I have spent my childhood, my hair loose, wind billowing and wearing a straw hat that has fallen askew off my head. Northern downpour down my baro’t saya, dampened by the rain, and my long hair messy, as if I have returned from war or a tryst. I look like I must’ve been waking. It’s not that my presence is unwarranted.

I have reasons to be here back in my childhood home; I grew up between Manila and Bulacan. My grandparents live here, my father has a business he expanded here. The small town of San Jose, my brother with his memories of bloodied fists and foul words, Vito’s nimble fondness for sewing and piano and me? What did I have here in San Jose? Memories of climbing trees and riding carabaos and playing and fighting and beating up boys my age; I was a domineering child. And here I am, four years younger than you, sixteen, back to where my roots are.

This is Sitiong Uliran. Your home. Headquarters to the secret organization. An organization I am part of; my brother has orders to help you establish yourselves.

“Sinong hinihintay mo, Binibini?” You ask me this. I can’t help but lift my chin and look you in the eye directly. For some reason, I find myself finding it tricky to domineer over you. Do I look like I wait for someone to you? Do you even know me?

“Manalangin kaya ko, mananalangin mamaya ako, mahanap ang tunay kong sinta mamayang gabi,” I tell you placidly. I smirk at you, and you raise your brows. Your lips curve. You’re a looker, I can assure you that. You eye my wet clothes and I fold my arms over my chest.

Should I assert myself?

“Mahahanap mo siya, Binibini.” You play along to the tune I sing, and I don’t laugh. My smirk disappears and I close my eyes. My hair and my clothes are still wet; do I have anywhere to go? “Hindi ka ba niya pupuntahan?”

“Diyan ikaw nagkakamali.” I take a step closer and you are able to take a better look at me. I knew how I was, that time. Thin and pretty enough to turn heads. “Wala akong hinihintay ngayon. Ang nais ko ay makausap ang nagmamay-ari ng Sitiong Uliran.”

Anacleto Enriquez; I’ve memorized the name in the paper Andoy handed my brother. Beata had whispered good luck in my ear and Pingkian had given my arm a squeeze. This is the assignment – help establish Sitiong Uliran, organize things. I’ve always had a skill for organization; doing this should be as easy as eating kakanin and ensaymada and stuffing myself. It’s a familiar name. My brothers grew up here.

We knew the Enriquezes.

“Kausap mo siya.”

“Anacleto Enriquez.” I have played you out. I knew it was you – one of those local boys I tried to terrorize as a child. Handsome. That’s just on the surface. Clever? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe if you’re an idiot, I will be as good as going to order a huge bottle of tuba to drown myself in from the lack of logic in your brain.

“At sino ka naman?”

How do I explain myself to you? My brothers and you and your brothers grew up together; I played with your brothers and tried to domineer over them. It’s an embarrassing memory but perhaps it is the first indication that I would be a natural leader.

“Pinadala ako ni Andres Bonifacio dito. Huwag kang mag-alala.” I speak confidently, assured. “Taga-Bulacan din ako, kaya pinadala niya ako dito.”

You squint at me, and lead me up the entrance to your house.

“…. Binibining Reyes?”

I give you a straight nod. Your lips twist in amusement. You know me, I realize. Por Dios. You will now remember how I yelled at you as a child.

Your hand opens the door, and in the hallways, your younger brother who is a few years younger than me, lingers, with a towel in his hand.

Your brother’s eyes fall on me. He looks at you and then me – and his cheeks pink. I wonder why.

“Dalhin mo si Binibining Reyes ng isang saya ni Victoria.” Your brother nods – and scurries.

“Nakilala mo pala ako,” I say.

“Ikaw pa.”

I wonder if you feel awkward, but you seem way too relaxed. Cool as a cucumber, even. You’re not telling me everything. I want to gauge you; I notice your fingers. Nimble, a bit rough. These fingers look like they can hold a weapon. Are you ambidextrous? Fate has bought us once again. My own fingers aren’t perfect; they cut chicken for tinola and they hold bolos in the trainee camps. They got ferruled when I got caught sneaking in bananas in class. I bet it’s awkward for you to handle me; I walk around, my hair wet, and I take a look at the rooms with you beside me.

“Katipunera ka pala.”

“Oo.”

“Bakit naman? Hindi ako gulat.” You’re gauging me, too. This is a chess game. A game for two. Well, I’ll play you.

“Dahil mahal ko ang bayan ko.”

“Pareho.” You flash me a grin and slide the door to a room open. “Mukhang magkakasundo tayo, Binibining Reyes.”

“May trabaho ako rito, Ginoo.”

“Matanglawin. Iyan ang aking nom de guerre. Ikaw?”

“Hannibal.” I wonder if you’d laugh. “Parang yung heneral ng mga digmaang Punic. Yung natalo ni Scipio.”

“Ang laki ng iyong nom de guerre para sa isang maliit na babae.”

I will have none of this bullshit. :^) I pull my gun from my sleeve and click it then I press my shoulder against yours, you against the wall.

“Gusto mo bang mamatay?”

“Patayin mo ako at magagalit si Andres. Gusto mo ba galitin siya?” you demand of me. That’s a given, but you haven seen through me. This is a stalemate.

The door slides open –

“Sino yan?”

Eyes stare at us. It’s a scandalous sight, but truth be told, I’m just checkmating you. I let go of you and flash my most charming smile. The meeting of men it is, then, just like the Katipunan headquarters. Men – and one woman. Wow.

“Ako si Hannibal. Pinadala ako ni Andres Bonifacio.” I put my hands on my hips; your gaze is on me. Gauging me.

“Babae ka.” One of the men notice.

“Makinig kayo sa akin.” I clear my throat. “Magiging direkto ako. Tutulungan ko kayo dito. Kailangan kumuha pa ng mga miyembro. At pupunta ako dito bawat gabi para maayos ito.”

There are rustles. Good.

“At isa pa pala. Ang pangalan ko ay Adela. At marunong ako gumamit ng baril. Ako ang mag-aayos din dito.” I pull the gun out and twirl it around my fingers.

**

We have our own rebel camps. You set it up, without me, and you’re the one who goes to my old house, when I’m back from chatting with Daniel the tuba vendor.

“Adela?”

“Ano naman gusto mo?”

This I shoot back at you, and you snort.

“May ipapakita ako sa iyo.”

“Tungkol saan naman ito.”

You grab my wrist, and then we’re walking a long way. To the fields, beyond the heat of the scorching sun, beyond the places we have seen here in San Jose. The tightness of your grip doesn’t surprise me, you had a strong grip, your hands have calluses and I just interpret it as the grip of some man who wants to surprise me.

“Eto na.”

We step in, and there is a small bustling rebel camp. Cans are placed, and some people are practicing their shooting. Others are exercising. It’s a camp of activity, and he lets go of my wrist. It… it impresses me. Things are running smoothly here.

He gets his own gun out and aims at the furthest can.

The can is blown off.

“Matanglawin.” He confirms this with a smile at me. “May ipapakita ka ba, Hannibal?”

Getting my own gun, I aim at the tree above his head. Guava. I let go of the trigger. The guava hits the face of a young man who appears to be writing something inside a journal.

“ARAY!”

The young man looks at me.

… Goyong. The idiot I fought with over kakanin.

“Ako yun,” I say casually. Vicente begins the throng of laughter. Goyong shakes his head at me, but when I look at the sky, I can feel his gaze on me.

**

Vicente, Anacleto and Goyong. The three of you are like me, Manolo and Vito. But that’s just me. The three of you, together. But then, there is me who commands the organization of Katipunan. Goyong’s not an official member and Vicente helps around and also keeps me company. You, and me, working in the wee hours of the morning, where we organize documents and make seals and all kinds of things.

Goyong hanging around, silent. I see how he admires you, and he gauges me. He knows me, I realize eventually, as we two wait for you one time you go to a trip to Maynila to talk to Andoy and probably confer with Pingkian.

“Kilala kita.”

He tells me this.

“Sinampal mo kamay ko nang pumunta ka dito dati.” Ah yes. Beata hit him with her fan and her tray over his head because the two of us fought over food. Embarrassingly, yes.

“Alam ko.”

The two of us in silence.

“Masungit ka ba talaga, Hannibal?”

“Alam mo, hindi ka naman bahagi ng organisasyon kaya wala kang karapatang tawagin mo ako niyan.”

“Anong pwede kong maitawag sa iyo?”

“Binibining Reyes. Adela Reyes.”

“Kilala ko mga kuya mo. Sa may Ateneo.”

I shrug.

“Alam mo, natutuwa si Anacleto sa iyo.”

“Bakit?”

“Para kang… apoy.”

I shrug off the compliment.

In the next weeks, you and I work. You gather more members while I sort documents and get the rebel camps moving, overseeing the management. New members need to learn how to defend themselves and I need to demonstrate things. My hands become used and my fingers callused, and the dark circles start appearing under my eyes, but it’s worth it, when at the end of the day, the two of us are huddled together in the room.

“Narinig ko takot sa iyo ang mga ibang Katipunero,” you tell me.

“Bakit naman?”

“Sabi ni Vicente na sabi nila masyado kang… “ You struggle to find the words. “Masyado kang mainitin ang ulo.”

“Gusto ko lang na tumakbo ang mga bagay nang maayos. Para sa ikabubuti ito ng rebolusyon.” I lower my eyes. “Pasesya na.”

“Hindi mo naman kailangan magpaumanhin.” You glance over my shoulder. I am evaluating the map of Bulacan. Scattered towns.

“Anong iniisip mo?”

“Kung gusto natin ito magtagumpay, mas magandang taktika ay talagang mahudyot natin ang mga tao.”

“Ikaw, bakit hindi mo kaya gawin iyon? Sabi ni Beata at Pingkian na magaling ka doon.”

“Nakita mo ang mga reaksyon ng iba sa akin, Anacleto.” I am a girl, a familiar face.

“Matalino ikaw. Direkto.”

“Yun nga eh,” I point it out to you. “Organisado ka. Dapat ikaw. “

“Bakit ako?”

“Taga-Ateneo ka. Gwapo ikaw. Lalaki ikaw. Mas maniniwala ang iba sa iyo.”

“Paano ikaw? Hindi ba’t sinabihan ka ni Bonifacio na umakto ikaw din?”

I look down at the map.

“Ako ay mag-iisip ng paraan. Kukuha ako ng mga tiktik.”

“Sige. Sige. Iniisip ko na magpakalat ako ng mga kwento tungkol sa mga ginagawa ng mga Kastila sa atin.”

“Magkakalat ako ng mga tiktik, kailangang may espiya sa mga Kastila. Sa bayan.”

“Magandang ideya.”

“Babantayan nila kung epektibo ang mga naisip mo.”

You smile.

“Ikaw talaga.”

**

The next day, we go around Bulacan. You talk to the people, I gather volunteers who I personally train.

I teach them to code their messages, I teach them the route, I find couriers who work for me. I pay them with my own money, with food that Vicente and I can find.

It takes hours and it is tiring, but Vicente knows how hard we work.

It takes weeks, and by the time we are back home, I collapse on the grass, as soon as I hop off my own horse.

**

“Pagod na pagod ka,” you tell me when I wake up, in my own house. You are with Goyong, and Vicente hovers about me.

“Yung mga tiktik,” I grumble.

“Huwag ka masyadong mag-aalala.”

You give me a smile.

“Magpahinga ka muna.”

“Pero anrami mo nang ginagawa.” I force myself to stand up, but you catch me. Goyong’s eyes raise, but I scowl. “Paano ikaw?”

“Kaya ko ito.”

**

Santacruzan is around the corner and they chose me as the Reyna Elena. It’s an irony, really. I scream as the women brush my hair, powder my face and dress me up and make a statue out of me. It’s embarrassing but my grandmother has volunteered to let me become the Reyna Elena, to teach me a lesson for my recklessness.

And comes the day for Santacruzan, I am bedecked in my pearls and jewelry and my hair is put up and my lips are rouged but dry. The parade is loud and there is nothing more I want than to lie on my back reading or at the rebel camps. Since it is Santacruzan, the rebel camps have been stopped. Everyone is watching me as I walk. I do my part, but later, when I rest from the Santacruzan festivities, I will be glad to be rid of this blasted thing on my face and march to Sitiong Uliran where Vicente will bring me guavas and mangos and apples and bananas and I can stuff myself and pat myself on the back because this is a woman’s job and a job well done.

The heels hurt my feet, and the crown is heavy on my head and the show goes on. It’s comforting to see you around, shooting me looks, while Vicente is near me.

“Ang ganda mo pala,” you tell me, when the town is busy eating the treats.

“Maganda?”

“Oo.”

I roll my eyes.

“Di talaga ako naniniwala sa iyo,” I tell you. “Reyna Elena lang ako dahil gusto ng lola ko.”

“Seryoso ako.”

I frown. This is a joke. My grandmother passes by as she observes us but Goyong helps her to get food off the table.

“Ako talaga?” I give a dry chuckle.

“Maganda ka, Adela.”

“Panget ako. Tuyo ang mga labi ko. Hindi na malambot ang mga kamay ko.”

“Maganda ka. Totoo ito.”

“Huh.” I am confused.

“Alam mo, dapat mag-ayos ka nang madalas. Maganda yung buhok mo. Mahaba. Maswerte kung sino man ang lalaking ngingitian mo.”

**

“Hindi nagsisinulang si Kuya nang tinawag niya ikaw na maganda,” Vicente tells me, as we take a walk across town. We are going to see the tuba vendor and my most reliable friend, Daniel. He blushes red.

“Alam niya na gwapo siya,” I retort. “Hindi naman ako maganda. At tsaka, parte ng apila ng kuya mo ang kanyang kagwapuhan.”

Goyong spots us, then raises a brow and I greet him with a casual shrug.

Vicente laughs nervously. He blushes red.

“Masipag ka naman.”

He cracks a smile. We stop in front of Daniel’s store, and I take a seat, as Daniel tells us of what has been happening: you have been all around town, busy indeed.

**

Rest. That’s what you tell me in fears of my fainting, but instead, I push on and accompany you to your trips across towns. My hat is on my head and we walk together. The horse rides, the wind that blows on my hat and my hair and the times we walk together.

You know, I have a secret.

I blushed hard when you told me I was beautiful. That’s when the storm started.

**

I cut my hair because it was too long is what I tell my grandmother. From hip-length, it is now reaching to my chest. But when she sees you at our door, she frowns and demands why Anacleto Enriquez is at our door, what does he want with me.

Manolo and Vito come to my rescue most of the time but nowadays, they are out. Between Manila and Bulacan. My grandmother should be left out of this.

“Gusto ka ba niya ligawan?”

I laugh.

“Hindi po.”

**

“Kung magkadigmaan nga talaga,” you tell me, “gusto mo bang lumaban?”

“Oo.”

You take a long hard look at me.

“Bakit?”

“Ito ang buhay ko. Ito ang pinili ko.”

“Bakit?”

“Ako ay isang babae. Ang gusto ng pamilya ko’y mag-asawa ako. Iba ang gusto ko sa buhay ko.”

“Ano ang gusto mo?”

“Sarili kong buhay.”

“Kaya ko itong irespeto pero Adela, mas malaki ang halaga mo.”

I blush in the darkness. I’m glad you don’t see it.

**

Jealousy.

I see you with a girl on your arm, when I am walking through town. I pause in my tracks. There’s some strange kind of pinch in my arm.

What is this feeling?

I walk away.

Everytime. You go into my view and I want to go run away. I don’t know why, it’s a strange feeling.

**

“Nakakatawa ka panoorin,” Goyong tells me, as I go shove kakanin on my mouth. “Selosa ka ba?”

“Sino ba yung babae na yun?” I demand angrily.

“Si Clara Siapit.”

“Sino yun?”

“Yung nobya ni Anacleto.”

**

I see you. I want to talk to you. You don’t look at me the way you look at Clara.

Possess you.

I wanted that, too.

In frustration, I grind my teeth and I sulk by myself when you’re not by yourself. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate it that when you look at me, I know I want you.

Who will not fall for you?

I hate you.

That’s what I tell myself, as every night after our nightly Katipunan meetings, I am tempted to go drink alcohol.

**

Punyeta. I curse you and your name. I curse how smart and persuasive you are, I curse how organized you are. Our plans will work, we know we’re both smart.

All this while our plans layer effectively as we have thought of.

**

Everytime I see you with her in town, I’m tempted to push her away. I am a possessive person, so I just stay away.

I hate this feeling.

Make it go away. Send help.

**

Help comes in the form of Vicente and Goyong who approach me while I finally sulk by Daniel’s store drinking tuba.

“…. Amoy alak ikaw.”

“Oo,” I snap.

“Hinahanap ka ni Anacleto,” Goyong says.

“Layuan niya ako.”

“…lasing ka.”

“Lumayo kayo.”

**

“Alam mo, nanlalamig ka,” you tell me, one night, as I clean my gun. It’s too late to avoid the storm. You’re caught in it and you’re in the midst of gathering gunpowder and ullets.

“Malamig naman ako.”

“Seryoso ako.”

“Bakit?”

“Kwintento ni Goyong na lasing ka.”

“Wala lang yun.” I frown.

“Gusto mo yung katotohanan?” I demand, and my voice cracks like a whip. “Mahal kita. Hindi mo ako mahal. Ganoon lang iyon.”

You sigh.

“Para ka lang kapatid para sa akin.”

“Alam ko.”

**

It’s raining again, the next day, and you are on your way, to execute your plans. This is the path I have taken, me in my straw hat, under the rain and you holding your gun. This is our last stop.

“Naghihintay ka muli?” you ask me, observing me.

“Wala na akong hinihintay.”

You smile. “Mag-ingat ka.”

“Ikaw din.” I try not to wince as we shake hands. I know what you’re doing and you know what I’ll do.

“Sa susunod, Matanglawin.”

This I tell you and then under the rain, I stare at the sky, wondering if God truly understands this bullshit I am putting up with. Do you know I kissed the tuba vendor because I wanted you and i was recklessly drunk because you and I were never meant to be? Do you know how much I want you? You could be mine.

You and I could get married, you know. You and I can be like Oryang and Andoy and like Pingkian and Beata and we can fight alongside each other. You and I could’ve protected each other.

Yet instead you stop and look back at me.

“Hintayin mo mga sulat ko. Sinabihan ko na si Vicente at Goyong na tulungan ka.”

“Sige.”

No kiss? I want to clutch at your shirt and give you one last token. The lock of hair at your pocket is enough evidence; it belongs to Clara.

“Hannibal.”

“Matanglawin.”

You go off, leaving me in the rain, my hair wet and loose once again, in the same spot where we met. You never told me I was not like the girls from our hometown, but you were magnetic, everything about you. Made me feel like someone else.

But instead, I get soaked. I fade into the rain.

I am a hurricane.


	2. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are places for sinners. It’s not hell - it’s the world where we live in. Panic ensues slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special mentions for Tatang Sebio, and Kakarong De Sili. This chapter is matter-heavy.

There is a place for a sinner like me. By now, I hang around Kakarong Sili, surrounded by men, one of the few women who are truly visible in this cause I implore on. Vicente and Goyong as per your request hang over me, as if I am some pearl to be protected. Kakarong de Sili has become one of my favourite places now – it is very organized and run tightly like a ship, and I am one of the people who do run some errands around it. Maestrong Sebio, a wise old man, has me under his command.

He’d taken a long look at me and had asked what I could do, as I was female. I’d replied back and said, “Bago ako isang babae, ako ay isang tao. Isang taong gusto palayain ang aking bayan.” Then I’d pulled out my gun and aimed for a tree with a few shots that culminated in the tree hitting the ground, with little effort. And I’d pulled out documents. A letter from Andres Bonifacio about me, his recommendation of my abilities and my courage. By this time, I had helped you in your campaign against the Spaniards and I was now maneuvering my tiktik agents around, having them whisper the atrocities committed by these Spaniards. These would help incite the winds of revolution.

“Ano ang iyong nom de guerre?” he had asked.

“Hannibal Barca. Ang magiting na heneral. Uminom ng lason kaysa mahuli ng mga Romano.”

He smiled at me and examined me again.

“May itsura ka, alam mo, hija?”

“Hindi po.”

He leaned forward.

“Ano pa ba ang mga kaya mo gawin?”

I frowned.

“Tinulungan ko si Matanglawin. Magkasama kami nagsaayos ng kampanya laban sa mga Kastila. Ginawa ko siyang simbolo ng rebelyon.” A figurehead so to speak. Mostly, it had been a combination of both our ideas. I’d pushed you to become the figurehead of the revolution. People were drawn to you. Not me; I would be less credible. A bookish female Katipunero with hot blood and a hot temper.

“Magaling ka rin pala.” He smiled at me. “Nagsisiayos ka rin ba ng mga dokumento?”

“Opo.”

“May trabaho ka na rin dito, Hannibal.” His eyes locked with mine. “Ilalagay kita sa ilalim ng aking mga utos.”

“Ang mga kuya ko ay sina Manggagamot at Aristotle.”

“Ah. Ang doctor at ang gumagamit ng arnis.”

I shuddered.

Maestrong Sebio offered his arm to me, and I took it. “Mga magigiting na mga lalaki ang mga kuya mo, Hannibal.”

“Alam ko po.”

“Bilang bunsong kapatid nila, hindi ka nanliliit ang paningin dahil ang mga tao ay magtuturing mas magaling ang mga kuya mo kaysa sa iyo?”

“Gagawin ko lang mismo ang aking trabaho. Ang aking obligasyon.” My words were swift. They are truth.

“Ano ba ang pinapangarap mo talaga?”

“Maging malaya.”

“Matapat ka.” He chuckled. “Nakikita ko na bakit tuwang tuwa si Matanglawin sa iyo.”

**

“Ano ang ginagawa mo dito?” The words are directed to me by Goyong, who finds me figuring out my weapons.

“Ano sa tingin mo?” I challenge him with a lift of my chin.

“Nakikialam sa mga plano.”

I take my shoe off my foot and hit him on the head with it.

“Aray ko!”

“Buti naman. Makinig ka naman sa aking, Gagoyong.”

He scowls and tosses me back my shoe, annoyed. Of course, he has no other thing to do than to listen.

“Ipaliwanag mo bakit ikaw naandito. Akala ko si Vicente babantayin ikaw?”

“Kailangan ko magtrabaho.”

“Ayy. Sabi nga ni Anacleto magpahinga ka muna. Pagod na pagod ikaw mula sa inyong mga lakad.”

“Gago. Laging may trabaho.”

He and I glare at each other, but we break it off quickly. We both need to be civil. My forceful personality is not going to work with his approach. So which of us needs to concede to work?

“Pasensya na.” He huffs. “Hindi ko inisip na makakapunta ikaw dito. Ano namang trabaho binigay sa iyo ni Maestrong Sebio?”

“Ako ang bahala sa mga stratehiya, mga tiktik at mga baril at pistol.”

“Ikaw pa,” he admits.

“Eh, ikaw? Ano namang nom de guerre ang pinili mo?”

He smirks, as if delighted to be lording something for once over me, the opinionated spymaster. His eyes flash, and there’s some cold harshness, that sense of purpose, that sets his eyes ablaze. Brown eyes that flicker. The smirk is lost, and it turns into a smile that could have snared a thousand women onto their feet, begging him for mercy.

I don’t fall for them. Because I can gauge him as I did you.

“Aguila.” Eagles. The symbols of power. Zeus’ symbol was an eagle, a personification of power. I am a bit surprised, I had not gauged him to be the type who desired power or control. Or perhaps I know too little of Goyong other than your friend, who admired you. But who am I to judge? I admired you. I admired your command, because we could have been equals.

“Ah, Adela.” He switches back to my name, becoming less formal. Almost flirtatious. Tempting; I’ve entertained a few flirts. But they were all from my friend the tuba vendor. Daniel. He told me the best stories. He entertained with me, with his technicality, with his analytical nature. His hand rests on my arm and I swat it away.

Just nope.

“Ano naman?” I return it sharply.

“Aabangan daw natin si Anacleto pagbalik niya.” I draw my breath. You. Ah yes. Sorely tempting. But then. It’d be reasonable to await you. In secret. A tactical move to keep moving, by secret. Keep the enemy at bay.

“Adela?” Maestrong Sebio stands by. “May sulat naipapadala sa may San Jose. Para kay Binhian.”

“Sino si Binhian?”

“Yung tagabenta ng tuba.”

Daniel.

**

“Hindi mo sinabing Katipunero ka na rin.” Daniel and I are drinking closely, near his store. We kissed a few times, after I had seen you with Clara Siapit. Meetings in the dark, where we talk, sometimes kiss and ponder and tell stories.

“Tiktik ako. Ang aking tiwala’y kay Maestrong Sebio.” He sets his jaw. I study him – he is as old as you. Almost as old as you. A vendor of tuba and runs his own small store. I took an inkling to him when I was ten and he was fourteen, when he started selling iced fruits in the plaza. He was not like you, he was not like Goyong or my brothers or me; he was from a poor family and his parents had died. He reminded me of Andoy in Tondo.

“Hindi mo sinabi sa akin,” I tell him.

“Si Maestrong Sebio.” He takes a sip of water and pushes the plate of kakanin to me. “Nasa kanya talaga ako naninilbihan. Hindi ko rin inisip Katipunera ikaw. Babae ikaw.”

“Tao,” I correct him. “Tao bago isang babae. Taong gusto ng sariling buhay. Taong gustong maging malaya.” The kakanin is okay; the baking is fine, but not as well-made as the kakanin that my grandmother makes.

“Paano mo maproprotektahan sarili mo, Adela? Baka naman…” His fist curls tightly. “Hindi ko gusto ang ideya.”

“Magtiwala ikaw sa akin.” I am blunt to snap the fact at him. “Nakausap ko na sina Andres Bonifacio, nakausap ko si Ka Ilyong, ang isang taga-Konseho ng Katipunan. Nakatrabaho ko na sila.”

“Bakit ikaw ang lumalaban?”

“Dahil alam ko paano nagdudusa ang tao kung hindi siya malaya. Ako pa, sa lahat ng tao.”

“May pagdudusa rin ako.”

“Ito ba ay pinansyal?”

“Hindi.” He gives me a quiet smile. “Matagal na tayong magkaibigan, di ba?” He sighs and sips more water. “May negosyo naman ako. Kaya ko makaraos. Ikaw, ano ba nga ang problema mo?”

My mind strays back to the memory of Goyong. His stares. The recent touch of my arm, this one was tighter than the times when you were around me. The glint of his eye. He had been in control. He had a nature similar to mine, I realize. That’s what I see in him. Potential. Yet I have little proof to prove that he can be a problem. I need to watch him. Carefully.

“Wala.”

“Kilala kita.”

“Pag-ibig.”

He gives a loud snort.

“Sinong tanga ang hindi mapapamahal sa iyo?”

“Walang lalaki ang magmamahal sa akin, ang minahal ko ay hindi nagbabalik ng mga damdamin ko.”

“Kuha ka ng pangalawang opinyon,” he suggests.

“Bakit?”

“Hindi mo alam, mahal ka rin niya.”

He leans forward to give me a kiss on my cheek.

**

“Nakita ko iyon.”

We are at Kakorong Sili and Goyong is quick to greet me with this.

“Ano naman iyan?”

“Hinalikan ka ni Daniel.”

“Ano naman pake mo?” This is my life. He laughs.

“Si Anacleto ang mahal mo, Adela. Nakita ko paano ka nagpakatanga, naglalasing malapit sa tindahan ni Daniel.”

“Tumahimik ka diyan. O suntok sa eng-eng mo ang mapapala mo.” I mean my threats and I click my gun.

**

You go back, and Goyong and Vicente and I are the ones to receive you. It’s not painful, we act as if nothing has happened and I give you my best smiles. Of course, Clara Siapit is the first name you mention, you pine for her and it breaks my heart to hear it. We work together, so we act professional, and I leave immediately, once you set out to find her house and probably talk to her.

“Adela?” you ask me the next day. We bump at the plaza, where I am fanning myself, flanked by Vicente, who follows me around warily. Probably keeping an eye on me.

“Ano?”

“Salamat.”

“Bakit?”

“Naging epektibo ang kampanya natin.”

“Walang anuman.”

I lift my head and turn away and I start walking, fanning myself. We are not lovers, you belong in another woman’s arms and I belong to my cause because it is my place truly. I wonder how long will it take for us to fall and have the dust bite our remains because what we are doing is dangerous and there is a brewing storm ahead.

“Adela!”

Goyong runs after me, and I merely walk away.

**

“Napakapeligro ng mga ginagawa natin.” Daniel comments on this. Another sequestered meeting that is guarded by darkness. My grandmother is asleep, Manolo and Vito are taking watch for the Katipunan chapter.

“Wala akong pake. Gawin ang kailangan.” I swat the idea off and take another sip of water. “Ano ba ang nailagay mo sa peligro?”

“Ang buhay ko.”

“Ano pa?”

“Ang estado ko. Galing ikaw sa pamilya ng mga ilustrado. Ako ay sadyang mahirap, Adela.” He smiles sadly. “Dapat nga hindi tayo nagkikita.”

“Mhm.” It’s no big deal to me that my family has not chosen a man for me to marry. I don’t want anyone. Except you. “Di bale na ang lahat. May digmaang nagaganap. Maraming mawawalan ng mga lalaki sa buhay nila.” The men will go to the war efforts and women will support and wait them. Not me, I think bitterly.

“Kung sinabi ko sa inyong Kuya Manolo na kaya kita protektahan, tatanggapin ba niya ako?”

I stare at him open-mouthed.

**

“Paano kaya kung lumayas tayong dalawa?” Daniel whispers in my ear, as I walk around town to make my rounds to my spies.

“Lumayas?” Why? I frown at him. The Revolution needs us. We are two youngsters caught in a fight for freedom. I have no choice but to let it eat me up; he has every reason to join the Revolution.

“Oo. Magpapakasal tayong dalawa. Magkakaanak tayo. Tapos….”

I hold up my hand as a shadow falls on two of us. From our back, I spot black uniforms. Carzadores, I note, and my footsteps are suddenly faster. Who is it they follow? I take a detour using the plaza, and the shift of black uniform confirms this. So they are following us, this is tricky indeed.

“Lumayas,” Daniel repeats cautiously. “Adela, gusto ko lumayas tayong dalawa.”

“Bakit naman?” We are both terse; we know we are being followed. What to do?

“Simple lang. Gusto ko –“

I hold his shoulders and put my face on his neck, my hands on his shoulders, as we walk towards the woods. Do the carzadores know where we are going? This is the way to Kakarong de Sili and I know no more way.

“Adela….”

“Wag mo sabihin pangalan ko.” I say this in a low voice and I push him towards the tree. Surely, they cannot see us. I bite my lip and Daniel pulls out a knife.

“Daniel!”

He pushes my hands away and steps out.

“Masyadong…” To this, he lifts one finger and walks slowly out. Then he throws the knife – and my feet are off the ground.

This will be my undoing.

**

Breathless. Shaken.

That’s how I am when I am back into town, hiding in the alleys. The carzadores already know what I look like. I take a look in the plaza fountain, then back to an alley. I need to change my appearance – I am wearing a baro’t saya from my mother, my hair is tied up and long and my skin is fair and clean. Thanks to my running, my hair is a bit of a mess and my hair has grown out.

What do I do now? My first impulse is to strategize what to do, as I hide in the alley, coming up with a plan. I have a knife and a gun with me, and my bullets are limited. I need to cover my head with a veil and I need to change my baro’t saya and shoes. If I cannot pass as an ilustrado mestiza covering her face and head, I have no other choice. Matanglawin. The name is common, I know what my tiktik spies are saying. My nom de guerre works best as a secret. I have made you my figurehead, my symbol of revolt and I can be your undoing.

The minutes turn to an hour. I have to cover my face and head and I produce a black mantilla veil over my head, while I tie my hair up in a bun and I get a shawl from a hanging clothesline nearby and I trade my shoes with some other woman’s shoes. If the carzadores were smart, they’d know my profile by now.

Opinionated. Tough. Outspoken. To blend in, I must mute myself. Daniel can meet me later, he knows how my mind works.

With the shawl and the veil, I go back to town.

One of my spies greet me – and Goyong accompanies her, with a grim face.

“Hannibal,” Goyong tells me.

“Ano?”

Goyong points to the Enriquez house – and the carzadores are dragging your sister and mother out. Victoria. Aling Petrona. 

He takes a look at me.

“Nasaan si Binhian?”


	3. Burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They begin to take everything away. It's no longer about just Anacleto - it becomes about her, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: torture scene.

“Kinuha nila tatay ko,” Goyong tells me, as he walks me home, his hand on my arm tightly. “Sana naman hindi nila kinuha ang iyong lola. Sina Kuya Manolo at Kuya Vito?”

I close my eyes.

“Kaya naman nila.”

Daniel. What in God’s name did I do to save Daniel? He was close to me. He knew almost everything about me. What I liked. What my habits were. If he was tortured… Wait. He’d gotten out with the knife on his hand and aimed to spill blood. Risky move. Either he died. Or he killed. He was outnumbered; I knew how well he could fight.

It was a risky move all along. My breath hitches.

“…ano nangyari sa iyo?”

He pulls me aside and looks at me.

“Si Daniel, tinangkang kalabanin ang mga Kastila. Goyong, pwedeng patay na siya.” I close my eyes. What can they do to me? Garrote him? First, you. Now, Daniel. Why can it not be me?

“Patay.” He grits his teeth.

“Goyong. Wag.” He will be plotting revenge. His father is taken. At best, we need to take caution.

“Utak at tapang,” he tells me. “Kung aatakehin…”

“Hindi!” I snap. “Makukulangan ang pwersa mo. Nasa tali ang buhay nina Anacleto, ang kanyang ina at kapatid at tatay mo at kay Daniel. Masyadong mataas ang peligro.”

He takes a look at me then sighs.

“Anong plano mo?”

“Kumuha ng impormasyon. Magpulong sa may Kakarong de Sili. Kausapin si Anacleto. May mga tiktik ako.” I think of Manolo.

“…sigurado ka bang tapat ang mga tiktik mo?”

I bite my lip.

“Adela, sagutin mo ako!”

“…. Oo.”

We pause, right in front of my house, and Goyong pulls down my veil. I am reminded that I need to do something about the way I look.

“…pasensya.”

I nod and bow my head at him.

The door opens, and Vito is watching both of us. Vito’s pale skin is covered in sweat; I can sense the stress of the new situation is taking a toll on us.

“Hannibal. Aguila. Narinig ninyo ang balita, di ba?”

We both nod, wary.

**

“Pwede niyo ba mapaliwanag sa akin bakit ang Del Pilar at ang dalawang magkapatid na Enriquez ay napunta dito para kay Adela?” My grandmother smacks the table angrily.

“Lola, hindi mo maiintindihan,” I say.

“Ikaw, huwag kang magsalita,” she chides me then turns to Vito and Manolo. “Liniligawan ba nila ang iyong bunsong kapatid? At bakit gabing gabi na nauwi kayong tatlo? Ano ba talaga ang mga pinaggagawa ninyong tatlo?!”

“Lola, mahabang usapan po ito,” murmurs Vito calmly. “Lahat kami ay may trabaho.”

“Trabaho? Ang naririnig ko ay ang iyong bunsong kapatid ay napunta sa Bulacan na may kasamang lalaki na hindi nanliligaw sa kanya!” Her voice rises. “Wala ba kayong hiya?”

Vito and Manolo look at me.

My grandmother rises from the table, and leaves the room.

“Ano ba nga ang pinagagawa mo?” Manolo demands of me. “Baka naman itinakwil mo na ang mga utos ni Andoy para manglandi.”

Vito shoots him a dark look. “Hayaan mo si Adelang magsalita.”

“Sinagawa ko nga.” I breathe in. “Si Matanglawin at ako ay nagplano. May kampanya kaming inilunsad. Mga balita tungkol sa mga atrosidad ng mga Kastila. Ginawa kong simbolo si Matanglawin ng rebolusyon. Mapeligro pero pinili niya. May mga tiktk ako.”

I don’t want them to know about the thing with Clara Siapit. It’s none of their business.

“Mabuti. Mapeligro.”

“May carzadores na nakakita sa aming dalawa ni Daniel. Hinabol nila kami. Ang ginawa ko’y tumakas; si Daniel ang nakipagaway.”

And I don’t know where he is.

**

The mirror. I preen into it, my hair loose. What do I do now?

I grab the scissors and start cutting my hair again. Then I grab the Katipunero uniform and the straw hat.

**

I am at Kakarong de Sili, and looking over the maps of Bulacan, when Goyong sits near me and whispers in my ear.

True to his word, you wait for me, in the plaza. We are both grim; this is the culmination of our activities. There is a crowd gathering at the plaza, and we see the birds flying above. Doves. Mayas. Hawks. Eagles.

“Anong nakikita mo?” you ask of me, firm. I look at you, then back at the plaza.

At the front, the carzadores have bought a pole and a shirtless man with a sack over his head is kneeling. His hands are shackled to the pole, and his body is covered in bruises. There are a few flog marks on his back and I shudder. Who can this be? Is this an insurgent?

“Masyado pang maaga,” I tell you, and you give me a nod.

“Matalino ka nga,” you murmur. “Hannibal, lapit ka sa akin. Hawakan ko kamay mo.”

“Bakit?”

“Hindi nila mapapansin tayo.” I let you touch my hand.

And the carzadores brings out a whip and continue to hit the man with it. He flogs the man in front, and there are no screams that come out. For twenty minutes this happens but I see some faces in the crowd. Shudders. Goyong and Vicente catch up with us, and Vicente shoots me a knowing look.

Who can he be?

The carzadores then brings out nails, and inserts them through the man’s fingers. A yelp from the man, and beside me, I see Goyong’s eyes dim, Vicente’s frown run deeper and your fists curl. Me, I watch. They are trying to send a message to us.

“Sabihin mo na pangalan ng nobya mo,” whispers the carzadores. He runs the nails deeper into the man’s finger – and pulls the sack off his head.

“Sabihin mo na ang pangalan niya.” Spanish.

It makes sense when the man being tortured looks at me. His hair is short and curly, and his dimples are still there. Strong white teeth, straight nose and thin lips. Squinty eyes.

Daniel.

They’re looking after me, too. They want to teach me a lesson. That I will be harmed, too, no matter what. And they want to get me too. It’s no longer just Goyong and you. It has affected me, too.

I am their target, too.

“Ikaw,” you murmur, and Goyong and you drag me out.

“Hindi ikaw dapat madakip nila,” you tell me, as we escape in the alleys. “Mas malala ang gagawin nila sa iyo dahil babae ikaw.”

Goyong’s fists curl, and Vicente sets his jaw.

“Proprotektahan ikaw naming,” Vicente declares firmly. “Ang lahat ay nasa linya.”

This is too dangerous.

I am playing with fire.

**

“Masyadong delikado magsimba,” Vito warns me and Goyong and Vicente in my house. “Huwag kayo muna dito sa Bulacan.”

Manolo frowns.

“Sa Tondo muna kayong tatlo,” he admits. “Si Pingkian at Beata’y magiging magalak tumanggap sa inyong tatlo.”

“Paano si Kuya?” Vicente asks.

“Kakayanin niya.” Manolo smiles grimly. “Pati na rin kaming dalawa ni Manggagamot.”

Vito is putting my things in a bayong.

“Ang naisip naming ni Manolo’y sa Tondo muna kayong tatlo’t para matulungan nina Beata at Pingkian at magplano. Ligtas muna kayo.”

“Paano si Daniel.”

I huff. Daniel. The light in my mundane life in Bulacan, the one asking me to run away with him. How have I not survived without him? I’d chosen to make the decision that was tactically wise. Why was I an idiot to choose myself over him? Dust stuck in my throat. Tomorrow will be coming and what are we left? Vito is done packing, and he hands the three of us shawls and jackets and cloaks.

“Para hindi kayo makilala.” Manolo gives me a stern look. “Adela, ikaw ang may bahala kina Vicente at Goyong.” The latter pouts, like a child. Of course, me.

“Opo, Kuya.”

Manolo gives a frown at Goyong and Vicente. “Kayong dalawa, protektahan ninyo ang kapatid ko. Lahat kayo nasa peligro.”

“Si Kuya,” says Vicente.

“Si Anacleto,” insists Goyong fiercely.

Kuya Manolo smiles. “Kaya niya alagaan sarili niya. Kayong tatlo, mag-ingat kayo.”

**

We are inside the carriage, and Vicente has already fallen asleep. He leans on my left shoulder; I am sandwiched between him and Goyong. Our hands bump together, and I bite my lip. I shudder to think of Daniel’s fate in the cells.

They tortured him.

They wanted me.

“Apoy,” Goyong murmurs.

“Ano?”

He gives me a smile. “Parang apoy. Iyan ang sinasabi ni Anacleto tungkol sa iyo, eh. Isang binibining may apoy sa dugo.”

I blink.

“Bakit ko kasi siya iniwanan?” I murmur.

“Masyadong madahas ang ginawa niya.”

“Hindi ko siya nasalba.”

“Hindi ko rin masalba tatay ko. Hindi ka nag-iisa.”

We look at Vicente, young and caught up in revolutionary activities. He is a few years younger than me. I clutch the gun inside of my sleeve and tighten my fist.

Daniel. Anacleto. Why did I sign up for Katipunan? Ah, the polo y servicios. My frustration at the domination of religion over my country. Because I wanted a choice in life. There is nothing I can see; the darkness can become me.

“Linalamig ka ba?”

I give Goyong a smile.

“Kakayanin.”

**

I’m the one who doesn’t sleep at night; I give a little cry of my own. My cheek is wet when we arrive at Tondo, and the one who answers the door is Pingkian, with Beata, who gives me a hug.

Beata gives Goyong a harsh look, and then grabs my arm, leading me up the stairs while Pingkian gives both Vicente and Goyong a warm smile.

**

“Ang sama ng itsura mo,” chides Beata, as she brushes my hair, frowning at the uneven lengths. “Pinaggugupit mo ito, no?” Leave it to Beata, to fuss over me. Affectionate and prim and proper; she is the type of woman society adores. And me? Too opinionated. Too hard-headed. 

I sigh.

“Oo.”

“Bakit?”

“Mahabang kwento.” I bite my lip.

“Ikwento mo,” she probes me. 

“Yung kaibigan ko dinakip at pinahirapan ng mga carzadores. Hinahanap nila ako. Alam nila ang pangalan ni Anacleto. Alam nila ang mga pinaggagawa naming dalawa.” I pick at the bedsheet. “Ang hinala ko, baka umatake pa sila.” 

“Buhay ng isang rebolusyonaryo,” Beata tells me. She smiles sadly. “Isa itong buhay sa isang digmaan.” 

**

You write to me. Reports. Inquiries about Vicente and Goyong. Of course, we weren’t idle during those days. We went on errands. I pored over maps and strategized and played chess with Pingkian. 

**

You know, later, during the later war years, I still keep your letters to me.


	4. Hold On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The all-time high is rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> penultimate-ish chapter.

Adela,

Pinahirapan nila si Daniel muli. Pinagpalo, at ang kanyang mga sigaw ay naririnig mula sa plaza, at minsan kwartel ng mga carzadores. Ang likod niya ay puno ng mga sugat. Ang kanyang mga mata’y pula at hindi siya nagsasalita. Alam mo naman siguro ang habol ng mga carzadores. Ang aking ina at kapatid ay kilulong sa may Bilibid at ang tatay ni Goyong ay ipinakulong din. Ang lola mo ay ikinuha at hinahanap nila ang mga kuya mo. Mukhang ikaw din ipapahanap. 

Si Clara ay nag-aalala. Ramdam ko ang hirap ng sitwasyon. Itipon mo ang iyong mga tiktik. Isang araw, tayo naman ang aatake. Kung mahuli tayo ay pwede tayong igarote. Ikaw, baka mas malala pa. Huwag mo pahirapan masyado ang sarili mo. Alam ko kung paano ka mag-isip.

Anacleto

**

Tiktik. That’s what we call the spies those days. You trusted me with them; I knew well how to talk to them. Logic barely works but persuasion is an art that I learned to master. I’d watched my brothers work their way in persuasion, we had rhetoric lessons in our old house in Bulacan and the master was inclined to teach me. We get to work, the five of us, on the nights we were in Tondo. 

I’m the one who gets to talk to them, with Emilio Jacinto by my side, and Beata and the other at the alleys, wary. 

Beata wears mantilla over her head and she holds one bolo tightly. Her face lines with annoyance, as Goyong hovers near her, obviously trying to make a move on her. Vicente steals a glance at me, as Emilio and I station ourselves near the establishment.

“Sino naman itong tiktik?” I ask Emilio, as he taps his foot. He is wearing his uniform; I am clad in a white veil over my head (ironic), and my hair is neat and I have placed a cloak over my shoulders. 

“Isang kakilala. Galing Pampanga.” He looks over his shoulder, to Beata and she points at Goyong’s face with her bolo. The latter pales and shudders and takes a step away from her.

“Kakilala?”

“Kaibigan. Catalina.”

Oh.

He focuses back to the retreating figure, that emerges in the darkness. Prim, proper footsteps; her fingers lace around rosary beads and her head is covered by a mantilla veil. It’s a Sunday; it’s highly understandable. Yet she is alone. She spots me; I see her lips curve upward, because I feel that she understands how I feel. 

“Catalina.”

“Pingkian.”

The woman lets her veil down, and I see tanned skin. Earnest eyes, thin lips. Callused hands, worn by labor. I have yet to truly gauge her. The woman smiles at me.

“Catalina, siya ang isang...” Emilio pauses. What is the proper word for me? “Isang tapapagayos ng mga tiktik tulad mo.” I’m blunt and I smile at her dryly. 

“Ang...bata niya.” 

“Dalawang taon lang ang agwat namin,” I confirm. Emilio looks amused; he is used to my bluntness.

“Ano naman ang mga balita?” 

“Ang mga suspisyon tungkol sa Katipuna ay lumulutang na. May mga prekawsyon ang mga prayle.”

**

You are the one who catches me when we arrive - you take my hand and I shoot you a frown. 

Don’t make me expect. I keep my composure calm. I will not fall. Not when everything I have is at stake. Not for you. Not for anyone. It’s bad enough I left Daniel hanging. 

We go back to routine - organizing and planning, looking at maps and books and playing chess.

**

“Paano na si Daniel?” I ask my brothers the day after I return.

Manolo looks away, and Vito sighs.

“Sabihin niyo,” I insist.

“Matigas ang ulo niya,” Manolo adds. “Ayaw niya talaga ikaw idamay. Ang Diyos na ang may bahala sa kanyang kapalaran.”

“Ang hindi ko maintindihan ay siya ang ginamit. Magkaibigan kayong dalawa, di ba?” Vito looks at me straight and hard. “Adela, may nangyayari sa inyong dalawa, no?”

“Wala po.” I deny him, with my words. These are dangerous times. “Wala ang nangyayari sa aming dalawa. Nasaan ba siya?”

“Kung gusto mo malaman.... kung anu-ano ang naririnig ko,” admits Vito. “Di ba nagoorganisa ikaw ng mga tiktik? Bakit hindi mo hanapin siya?”

“Nasa kwartel siya,” I muster. “Yun ang alam ko.”

“Ganoon?”

“Ano pa ba? Magkaibigan nga kami. Kailangan ko malaman.” They wanted to draw me out, too. The same way that the Spanish took Goyong’s father. The same way that Aling Petrona was dragged to Bilibid because of Vicente and Anacleto. 

“Ilang buwan na siyang sigaw nang sigaw. At isang araw, wala nang mga sigaw.” Manolo sets his jaw. “Isa siyang Katipunero. Walang labi ang natatagpuan.”

“Baka patay na.” Vito sighs.

“Kung walang labi, hindi ako maniniwala na patay siya.” Mutilation. They mutilated my friend in the plaza. The tuba vendor who was an informer. If he broke down and sold down secrets, what could they have done to me and him? We were going to destroy our own dreams. Run away. 

“Anong nangyari ay nangyari na.” Manolo sets his jaw and gets up from the table. “May pupuntahan kami nina Anacleto at Isidro Torres.”

“Saan?”

“Kalookan. 

**

You greet me a week later, smelling like sweat and war, and I smile at you. 

“Adela.”

“Anacleto.” I look at you straight in the eye. “Mukhang palala nang palala yung sitwasyon natin, no?”

You laugh. 

“Oo.”

“May tanong ako.”

“Ano naman iyan?”

You touch my nose, and lean in forward. “Ano ba ang gusto mong maging parte sa Rebolusyon?”

“Kahit ano.” Not the whole truth. I don’t want to set myself on fire at this point. Your boyish looks are part of your mystique; I wonder if women threw themselves at you. You can gauge at me and I can play at you like this. 

“Adela.”

“Anacleto.”

“Sabihin mo na ang totoo.”

“Lumaban.”

“Bakit?”

“Yun lang ang paraan na alam ko. Ikaw ang simbolo ng rebolusyon dito, Anacleto. Ikaw ang pinili ko. Gawin mo ang kaya mo.”

“Hindi lang ako. Ikaw din.” You sigh.

“Ang mga tiktik ay puno ng balita. Umurong kayo mula Kalookan. Masasabi kong taktikal siyang ideya.”

“Ikaw. Sa may larangan ng giyera. Ano pa kaya ang kaya mong maisip? Hindi mo nababahagi sa ating Inang Bayan ang buong puso mo.” 

You have guessed me out.

“Si Daniel,” I admit. 

“Huwag ka magpalaro sa mga makinasyon ng mga prayle. Wag ka magpalaro.” You point this out. “Si Daniel ay palaban. Kilala ko siya. Nakausap ko siya.” 

I lighten up. 

“Si Vito ay nasa may mga pwersa ni Bonifacio ngayon.”

“Nasa ilalim ako nina Maestrong Sebio at ikaw.”

“Kanino ba ang iyong mga alyansa, Hannibal?” 

“Sa aking bayan.” I close my eyes. “Mas matapang ikaw, Anacleto.”

“Adela. May ibubuga ikaw pa.”

“Pag-iisipan ko ito.”

You chuckle.

“Samahan mo ako, magiging parangal na makita ikaw sa larangan ng digmaan.”

“Isang araw.”

I wrap my arms around yourself. You are not mine. You will never be mine. You are never mine to begin with. And I was never yours at all. 

**

Daniel still haunts me, you know. I never returned his affections. Perhaps you broke my heart this way. Asking me to fight, when the loved one who was tortured went missing. Asking me to devote myself to my Motherland this whole. 

I can’t sleep at night. I still attend the meetings and take notes and I stop going to church for the same reason. 

And the walks. I take my walks. Pathetic. Perhaps I was born and fated to be this pathetic - alone, wandering around and haunted by one ghost that was caused by my involvement with the revolution. My brothers are now wanted men, according to my spy network. And I am reduced to a walking wreck who looks at maps and attends meetings and walking around Bulacan by myself.

I ask myself who is in control. This is not the planned experiment I wanted. Someone must have betrayed me. Or perhaps it is only me who gives myself away. Why did I involve myself in the Revolution?

I had wanted a life of my own. I had a colorful childhood, butting in my brothers’ lessons and picking fights with boys and terrorizing them. I was educated, literate and smart enough to be sent to UST. Or maybe, I felt crushed by every expectation my parents had wanted for me. My own undoing is my own willfulness.

Maybe one day I will own up to it. 

So I take my gun and shoot away at targets by myself. I will learn to fight for myself. I will learn to protect the people I love with everything I have should the day ever come. 

And my grandmother will pray for my soul.

And come one day I will die for this country. 

That way, it will have a happy ending. I will not leave a lover behind; I like to think you would cry and Goyong would look dapper in my funeral. 

And Vicente would sob.

**

September 4.

In Bagumbayan, four were executed. Katipuneros, no doubt. I don’t know if they were my brothers. This is a slow reign of terror. The Spanish want to cement their hold on us, and you are right, once again. This is the thing you want to fight, and you have my support. 

I don’t need Goyong to come over and tell me he hopes it’s not Vito nor Manolo, because Vito is with Bonifacio and Manolo is somewhere. They are my brothers. And they are smart men.

I dip my toes in the water; I am sitting by the river, silent and pondering at the reports of the spies. Threats and rumors of revolution. Hopes of freedom. Martial law probabilities. And Daniel’s ghost. 

“Anong iniisip mo?”

Goyong. Shirtless.

“Gutom ako.”

“.... wala akong pagkain.” Oh, the little idiot has just taken a little swim. I barely bat an eyelash as he sits near me, dripping and shirtless. How many women have found themselves giddy at him? I am immune to his idiotic antics.

“Alam mo...”

“Ano?”

“Hindi ko napansin na mahilig ka umupo sa may ilog. Napansin ko lang. Ang rami mong pinag-iisipan.”

“Malamang.”

“Si Anacleto, no?”

I sigh.

“Ilang babae kaya ang linandi mo habang nakaganyan ka, no?” I snap back.

“Uy, hindi kaya!”

“Oo. Sigurado ako. Tinatae mo ata ako ngayon, eh.” 

He inches closer and I push him away. He lands at the water.

“Adela naman eh!”

“Gago.” I roll my eyes and extend my hand. He catches my hand and pulls me in.

“LECHE BINASA MO AKO!” 

“Ang sama mo kaya!”

“Masama?” I angrily stand up, my clothes dripping and wet. “Papagalitan ako ng lola ko, tignan mo, ang basa na ng mga damit ko!”

“Pasensya na!” He tosses me his shirt. “Iyan. Damit ko.”

**

“Anong nangyari ba sa iyo?” he bothers asking me.

“Nanghihinayang sa sarili ko.”

“Kilala mo ba ang sarili mo?”

“Oo.”

“Dapat sigurado ka diyan, eh.” 

“Tumahimik ka.” I pick at my hair in annoyance. It doesn’t help.

**

Clara Siapit goes to see me, one night, while I am cooking some tinola for me and my lola.

“Ikaw ba si Adela Reyes?”

“Ako nga.”

I let her enter the house and my lola smiles at her. 

**

“Ano ang gusto mo pag-usapan?”

“Si Anacleto.” She smiles at me, polite. “Binibining Reyes, hindi ko alam ang relasyon ninyong dalawa, pero gusto ko lang magtanong.”

“Magkaibigan lang kami.”

“Sigurado ka ba?”

“Minahal ko siya pero hindi naman niya alam. Ikaw ang gusto niya. Ako ay parang maliit na kapatid para sa kanya.”

She laughs.

“Ganoon ba?”

I nod. “Ano pa ba ang gusto mong talakayin?”

“Gusto ko sabihin na saludo ako sa iyong trabaho. Mapeligro man ito, natutuwa ako. Napakatapang mo, Adela.” 

I see why you love her. 

“Salamat po.”

**

On my days when I think of you and I feel possessive, usually, I come to Daniel. A kiss, or more kisses. Now, there’s no one to entertain me except my gun.   
And I struggle with his ghost. I am a spymaster, I remind myself. I am a fighter, and I have to be in control, and that I have to be strong.

Fair warning, that October departs and maybe I will seize what I can. 

**

Like water hanging over my head, I go to the river that day and I throw rocks. No solace. No featherbed. No word. Only news.

“Hindi ka sasama?” 

I look and it’s you, dressed in your uniform. Handsome.   
I shake my head.

“Sayang. Inisip ko kailangan kita ngayon.”

“Kailangan?”

“Oo. Malakas ikaw.” 

“Si Vicente?”

“Mamaya. Si Goyong nandito pa rin.” 

Above us, I see the flight of hawks. Is it a sign? I look at you. You are my own symbol. Revolution. Everything I want. Yet I couldn’t have you. Not at all. Never.   
“Paano mo ako nahanap?” 

“Si Goyong kwinento sa akin. Mawawala ako nang ilang araw. Nandito naman si Goyong.”

Idiotic Goyong. Making my heart break.

“Magkikita naman uli tayo.” I laugh. I can’t tell you now. You will never say yes to me. Not me. It’s understandable. “Sa susunod, Matanglawin.”

“Sino naman kaya ang hihintayin mo?” you jest.

“Ikaw? Si Goyong?” It’s a joke. All in good hope. But I wait for no one. My brothers are fighting. I am the pathetic loser who hides behind my own ghosts. 

“Sana kung maghintay ka, ang makakasalo sa iyo ang talagang iibig sa iyo.” 

I bite my lip.

“Alam mo, salamat. Salamat, Adela.” 

I nod and nod.

Panginoong Diyos. Keep him safe. Keep sound. 

"Ikaw dapat ang pasalamatan," I argue with you. Our shoulders brush and I smell your sweat. I have to resign myself with Daniel's disappearance. I am a coward. "Mas matapang ikaw kesa sa akin. Mahal kita...."

You raise a brow.

".... parang kapatid lang."

"Pareho."

We shake hands.

"Kung mamatay ako, Adela, gusto ko na may mag-alaga sa iyo. Bilang kaibigan. Si Vicente o si Goyong. Kaya protektahan ikaw. Isang taong magmamahal sa iyo."

"Wala na akong kailangan," I argue. "Ginawa mo na ang iyong obligasyon. Maghihintay ako. Kung lalaban, lalaban ako."

"Kung maghintay ikaw at hindi na ako'y bumalik, ang susunod sa mahahanap sa iyo'y sana'y mapapamahal din sa iyo." 

"O sige, aalis na ako."

"Mag-ingat, Adela!"

"Ingat, Anacleto!"


	5. The Emergence of Talents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to die - I mean - Adela's baptism of fire. TW: graphic depictions of violence. Grudge fight. Also Goyong the Gago's baptism of fire. 
> 
> The last chapter.

You did your part well, you know. I have ears where you don't see; I have ways to know things. It's not that I make claims to be supernatural. It's just that I am naturally intuitive, and that I am a spymaster after all. I posted tiktiks near the church. I don't have to imagine all weird scenarios from my head to make my testimonies. I am a born sinner, you are the saintly symbol who History will remember. They will not remember me. You did your job too well, after all, while I was an idiot who hid behind my pride. You never knew what I felt about you and that's how it goes. 

November 30, I spend my day waiting. You have done away with your own send-off, and perhaps I can watch the hawks and the other birds fly at the sky, while I wait near your house, the place of meetings. The first place where we met one another, and now, I wait. News reaches me. Words catch me - from trained couriers, from my own spies. Daniel has not been found, and there is no body that is found. If he is alive, then perhaps my longing has reached a point where I am numbed or tired by the wrestling that goes in the spike of my chest called my heart. My heart has too little room to be able to accommodate any love interest. I have wrestled with my feelings for you, I have struggled analyzing my feelings for Daniel, I have whole-heartedly wished for my own independence. It is the root of my actions - why I decided to take up the knife and slit my arm and sign my name in blood where I write my nom de guerre.

A big name for a small frail girl. You may be right, after all. I have been nothing but a pawn in this small-scale game. We play at patriots. But you did your part. You had political astute. You were educated and good-looking and you were the perfect figurehead to this revolution. It's a relief I had no play to play you indeed. Instead, I had been too bent up on you. Maybe I was in love with the idea of you. You were Jesus, I was the sinner, and Goyong was St. John, ready to accompany. Vicente would die if he went with you, an early death; what you did was dangerous. 

I don't talk about my feelings, you see, and it was not enough for me to truly mull over and develop my own feelings for you. I was pig-headed then and stubborn and opinionated and hot-tempered. If there is anything, I knew I felt about you strongly. Strong, but not enough to make a big fuss off. I've seen how you handled the gun; I'll admit, you were better than me. You knew my limit and you hadn't seen my prowess. 

Or maybe it was meant to be that you and I wouldn't reach each other in the way I wanted. You had a knack for cracking me down, to the gut of me. You saw places in me that were bright like fire. 

Perhaps you understood me too well. And maybe that's why Fate bought us apart.

It's not that I never needed you. I had needed myself first. It was childish infatuation. I fell for you hard, and I refused to fight for it. I had fought it. You'd found a way to keep me by your side, a cause for love that I had to hide. I'd have turned the tides for you. You were mine. And you weren't mine. 

Hawks in the sky. Flying. Circling. I close my eyes.

Does it rain?

No.

My feet ache. There is the whinny of a horse, and I close my eyes. Is it you? Or is it someone else? You and I had worked for this. You loved the Motherland far better than me. I had loved myself. That's why it culiminated in this. Perhaps, perhaps I've tried too hard to ignore my own reasons. But I had gotten caught in the crossfire. I had gotten involved. I have ghosts hanging over me. Even now, I wait for you. I wait for you to maybe tell me that I could join you and I could truly redeem myself. I would fight. It's taken me this long to truly understand myself.

I'd joined to fight. For myself.

And I have to fight. This is the inevitable. I cannot give up now. I should continue the fight. The imminent destiny. I had seen you as my destiny. I had thought you could be the destiny I wanted.

But I've gotten this far with my own self.

I will make it up to you.

The whinny stops and I hear the rustling. There are foosteps towards me. Drizzle falls on me, and I refuse to cover myself. My hair is loose, my eyes still closed. I will stop expecting. I will stop being fake with myself. My people are powerful, because of the panic. I will do this for myself. My part in the Revolution will only continue.

I am a hurricane.

I open my eyes.

The staccato of footsteps become louder. I'd found myself alone these days. I've been many things. A fool. An idiot. But it's time. Time to face the truth. Time to face what lies ahead. Time to own up to my Motherland. My chest rises. Is this the sign? The flying of hawks in the sky that have not escaped my eyes. 

"May hinihintay ikaw?"

I could swear I thought it was you, and I turn my head.

There's a white horse, and another man is holding the reins. 

"Hinihintay kita."

I close my eyes and look at the man.

No, it's not you.

Goyong is dressed in white, and he is pulling a horse with him, meeting me eye-to-eye. His shoulders are down, and he almost looks defeated. He doesn't smile at me. Now, what does he see? 

Another tired girl waiting.

Is he the one you meant? The one who will watch me? His lips curve; he must have taken my words to heart, and he bites his lip. I think that moment, we both knew. He kneels in front of me. Hands on my shoulders. His face in my neck. Inhaling me. Holding me. 

"Salamat...."

I don't move.

"May kailangan ka ba?"

I shake my head and perhaps that's when the tears start to fall. I started to cry. And your friend is there to watch me relieve myself of my tears. I have waited. I have gotten Goyong, instead. 

He takes it all in and walks me home. 

**  
January 1, 1897. 

"Pumanaw na si Matanglawin. Ang kanyang mga huling salita ay ang ipagpatuloy ang laban...." Maestrong Sebio delivers his speech, and I am beside Goyong, my gun hidden in my sleeve, dressed in my baro't saya. The Seven Musketeers, Goyong's friends, stand beside him. I have a resting bitchface from that time on, as a result of my sleepless nights. "MABUHAY ANG KATIPUNAN!"

"MABUHAY ANG KATIPUNAN!" we yell back in return. 

There's something banging, I realize, while Maestrong Sebio is delivering his speech, and I slip away into the maze of the fortress. Something. Something is going to try getting in. Behind me, I hear the running. I turn back, and Goyong and Vicente are after me.

"Bakit ka aalis?" Vicente grumbles.

"May narinig ako." More footsteps - and the Seven Musketeers have indeed followed us. 

"Narinig?" Julian Del Pilar asks of me.

"Sa may labas."

I continue running, and there, just as predicted, the fort wall bang is louder by the second. The men who hold it are nodding at the eight of us. I take another look. They have come for us. 

"Anong gagawin namin?"

"Kailangan nating depensahan ito."

Rifles are readied and I position myself at the edge, with my pistol and my gun. I will have to be a sharpshooter then. Think of the Spaniards. Think of what they did to Anacleto. Think of what they did to Aling Petrona. Daniel. His screams. All to make me pay. Is this the price to pay? Am I no better than an angry animal? 

**

We hold the fort for hours. Goyong is at the frontwatch; Vicente and he throw me concerned looks, while I am in my corner, awaiting the perfect timing to attack. For you. For myself. It sounds selfish but it's all the reason why I get fired up. The Spaniards are cornering us. In the best occasion, I deduce, throwing a look at the military forces who are trying to force the entrance of the fort open with the battering ram, we will have to be cornered. By number, the Katipuneros here are far more many. Your battle had massacres of 800 in total. Civilians. Katipuneros. You'd fought to the death. I didn't have the stomach to look at your corpse but I heard Clara Siapit wept. I'd said nothing; my lola had thrown me looks; she knew how you looked at me.

A soldier. I'd never looked at myself this way, I think as I throw frowns at the Spanish forces. Columns of six. I was no commander then; I was a mere pawn. The battering ram keeps hitting the door. It leaves marks, and there will be a time when it will give out. The best thing to do, I think, as I take one step back, anticipating attack, is to retreat. Corner them. They don't know the place; surely, we can have an advantage. 

"Adela?" Goyong asks.

The bang of the battering ram rings truer than ever. I narrow eyes and grasp my gun. Panginoong Diyos, pagpalain mo kami. Mother Mary, pray for us. Another hit. A mass portion of the gate is now bruised, destroyed. A few more and it will give out soon. Another step. 

"Nasisira na." 

He nods.

And it does. One swift bang and the marching is on. Goyong and Vicente are moving and I am running and positioning myself behind somewhere. Where do I best fight? I studied Hannibal's strategies by theories. This is a strange improvement. This is my first fight and I don't know whether to yell at the Spanish to fight me or to run under cover. What motivates me? I am surprised. i am aghast. 

"ADELA!"

Vicente grabs my arm, and he drags me while I see Goyong fighting now. What about - A Spanish soldier now steps in our way. Eyeing me. Vicente steps in front of me. 

"Anong -"

"Magtago ka!" Vicente yells this.

And I climb a tree.

**

This is troublesome. From my vantage point, I shoot one Spaniard in the arm. I will not kill, for now, I think, lightly. This is troublesome. I deflect any future fighters who come in Vicente and Goyong's ways because this is the reasonable thing to do. My first battle, and i do not desire to kill. I am educated, I am a girl who thought she knew everything and I will be reasonable.

But they don't tell you that sometimes you have to throw yourself in the fray. I watch everything. Faces I know. Maestrong Sebio is putting his life on the line. He walks around with gun and bolo and charges in, everything forgotten. I remember Daniel charging in. I remember you, with your massively impressive shooting skills. Goyong is not the same, body changing and he is in control.

I climb down from the tree, and I have found one enemy. 

The same man who had tortured Daniel in the plaza.

"Matagal ko na ikaw hinahanp."

"O, nandito ako," I snippily say. I give him my sassiest smile. "Mag-usap na tayo."

"Matagal na matagal na panahong hindi ikaw nahanap." He pulls his saber out of its scabbard. I look at his feet. His hands. His solar plexus. His collarbone. What can I do to immobilize him? "Napakatigas ng ulo mo. At ng iyong kasintahan."

"Ayaw ko ng away."

"Pareho rin."

Our eyes meet, and he takes a step closer - and his hands encase around my throat. Choking me. Just a few more tighter squeezes and I swear, his next move is to kill me. His breath in my ear, my heart beating faster. These same hands were the ones that tortured Daniel. Put metal under his fingernails. Flogged him in search of me. Collateral damage. Hostage tactics. All fair. "Ang hirap mo hanapin. At patayin."

"Tinatae mo ako." 

He loosens the grip on my throat and his hands wound around my hair. I feel my head spinning, and my face hits a wall. It's painful. Repeatedly he does it. No mercy. These hands could've murdered Daniel. These hands could've murdered more Filipinos wanting liberty. 

"Wala kang laban."

"Nakakatamad eh." I smile, then his fingers around my shoulders rise, and that's when I pull out my gun and shoot - He dodges, and I take a run. Under a tree. A few yards away from him. Around us, the world turns. Fighting. Screaming. Blood. 

"Punyeta ka." 

"Punyeta ka rin. Matagal mo na akong tinatae." I scowl. He runs, with his saber and I shoot him bullets. Diversions - he deflects them with his saber. All too well. This guy is a close-range fighter. I'm.... not. Send help.

"Adela." 

I freeze, as my hand closes around my gun. How does he know my name? Did he force it out of Daniel? 

"Yun ang sinabi ni Daniel.... bago siya nagbitiw."

And that's when I snap.

I hide under a rock for cover, and there, I evaluate my plans. He shoots bullets; they hit the rocks. I can hear the booming of canyons. I hear the screaming. I have to checkmate him. He has done nothing but charge and shoot. 

If I cannot win by weaponry, I will win by tactics.

I move away. 

**  
The alampay comes flying, with a knife and he swats it angrily away with his saber, as I predict. A barrage of bullets aim for me, but I evade and in the midst of the crowd, I feel it charging. This is the start; my feet are off the ground. I point my gun and shoot the bystanders in the wrist and the necks, as I retreat further. My plan: retreat further. Corner him there and use a trap. Trap him.

Bring him alive.

This is fair payment.

Booms. More canyons. 

More Spaniards - and I do the unthinkable. Hold the gun and aim for their foreheads. Surprisingly, the blood pops out. Blood from their foreheads. It's finished and quick, and I don't tell anyone about my plan. This is my payment for my pathetic state. 

And we're there. The end of the fortress. The alampay has hit him in the shoulder, and he is behind a tree. What do I do? I grab a stray rifle and I point it towards the tree. 

"Ano namang katangahan iyan?" he demands. We are panting; this is a game of cat and mouse. 

I scowl. 

Shots at the tree. The creaking of the tree - and it falls on him, crushing his limbs. I pull out a rope lying around and wrap it around his legs and his wrists and I bind him tight.

"....ano nang masasabi mo?" I demand.

".... putang ina."

"Mabuti naman." I smile and click my gun. To his neck. 

For Daniel. For you. For my lola. For the martyrs. For Gomburza. For myself. There is a large shot - and a boom in the distance. When I look at his neck, there is blood. 

**

I go back to the fray, and there are many dead bodies - and my wrist is dragged by Goyong. He puts a hand over my mouth, as we retreat further, survivors, with Vicente, who eyes me thoughtfully.

**  
Goyong is bleeding; we are now hidden in the bushes out of the fort. Vicente's eyes tell me everything. We have losses. 

Maestrong Sebio is taken out of the fort. 

**

Barangay Matal.

"Anong nangyari sa iyo, Adela?" Vicente asks, as we three are tended to by the people of Barangay Matal. A young woman named Elena is tending to Goyong's bleeding wound; I am sandwiched between the two boys again. A sweet girl named Catalina is brushing the cuts on my hands, now cold. The adrenaline. The fury. Was it really me earlier when I killed the enemies? My mouth drops.

"Nakita ko siya," Goyong tells Vicente. I cannot speak. Not for now. I have to analyze it much later. "Mabilis. Nakakatakot. Parang sinapian. Tumakbo parang kidlat. Pinatay niya ang nagpahirap kay Daniel."

Daniel has let me go. I close my eyes. 

This is war.

And this is how war embraces me; that all is fair in love and war. 

**  
My tiktik network comes to me forward with whispers, in Barangay Matal. 

I am seated in my own office. Vicente and Goyong watch; perhaps they are the new witnesses to this new me. I have embraced reality. And I will have no doubts to take life if necessary.

"Pinatay nila si Maestrong Sebio."

I nod. When they leave, I pull out my battered map of Bulacan. Where have the carzadores gone off to? I will send lives to the line. 

"Paombong," Goyong says, without looking. "Magtatayo ako ng mga pwersa sa Bulakan at sa mga ibang lugar."

I nod.

"May plano ako."

Two pairs of eyes bore into my own. 

I stand up.

"Pupunta akong Paombong. Kukuha ako ng bagong impormasyon. Kunin mo ang natitirang pwersa, Goyong." He and I exchange looks and he knows.

"Masusunod, Kapitan."

**  
This is how I have embraced reality. War is war. Everything is war. 

**  
In my cloak, I finally arrive at our hometown, at the front of the Enriquez house, where Goyong awaits. He is posed and dressed well, looking quite pleased with himself, even. The little idiot. 

"May hinihintay ikaw?" I ask, businesslike.

He smiles at me.

"Ikaw. Hannibal."

END.


End file.
